National Treasure Redux v2
by White N Nerdy
Summary: REPOST-sort of. It's the film “National Treasure” with another new twist. Ian has kidnapped Riley outside of Ben’s dad’s house...but Riley escapes and meets Ben and Abigail in Philadelphia! Yay!
1. Riley's Red Ride

**National Treasure: Redux v2**

_Rated T for violence and language._

**Foreword**

_This is part two of my "National Treasure: You Pick the Adventure" aka "National Treasure: A Different Kind of Adventure" repost. The story was first posted throughout June of 2008 and deleted early in November. I'm reposting the storylines into separate stories, by request from the many people who read and enjoyed the original story during its brief four month run here on the site. Please read and review again, even if you did last time. Thank you :)_

Yay, here comes version 2! Oh boy! I was so excited to see all you guys were excited about version 1! All your reviews for that one were great—seriously, you know how to lift a girl's spirits, so thank you all for that :)

Keep the reviews coming, but I'm not telling you where this one is going either. Oh, and in case re-readers weren't made aware of this yet I am reposting all of the storylines, so no worries about missing anything. Each of the versions get increasingly longer and more complicated I guess, so there's always that to look forward to. But first…on with v2!

**Chapter I: Riley's Red Ride**

Riley threw open the back door to his old red van and tossed the roll of duct back in amongst the mess of wires and computer parts. Stupid duct tape, wasted on Ben's stupid dad. Riley really wished Ben would have agreed to use the tape on the mean Declaration lady. She practically stole the show with the whole invisible code on the back of the Declaration of Independence thing. She wasn't even supposed to be on their treasure hunt. But now, just cause she knew what a…a whatever cipher it was, Ben thought she was great.

Stupid Ben. Stupid Ben's dad. Stupid mean Declaration lady.

Riley grumbled angrily to himself as he reached into his van to get his laptop. Ben had said get the necessities, but Riley found it hard to part with any of his stuff. He'd practically lived out of his technologically pimped out ride since college when Ben invited him on his search for the Templar Treasure. Now he had to leave it here, tucked away in the dark corner of some parking lot a few blocks from Ben's dad's house just waiting for the feds to come pick it up. And Riley would never see it again.

On top of everything else, it was dark and cold outside, and Riley had left his jacket in the Gates' stuffy house. He was shivering, even with his hoodie still on. He absentmindedly glanced at his watch and groaned. It was after two o'clock in the morning. Way past Riley's bed time. And Riley knew, that Ben knew, that if Riley didn't get a good night's sleep, then Riley would be _very_ unhappy later.

He was wallowing in his own self pity so deeply that he didn't hear another car approaching until it was practically on top of him. He turned and immediately paled when he saw that he recognized the shiny catering van. It was a van with the words "Olympus" written in large blue letters on the sides that had he'd chased all over Washington D.C. That was Ian's van and it was coming, right at him, really fast…

"Holy crap!"

Riley reacted in a second, hopping up and into his van with a yelp, barely managing to get out of harm's way as Ian's vehicle stopped an inch away from Riley's van's bumper.

As soon as the disguised catering van came to a screeching halt three figures leapt out, leaving only the driver and front passenger inside. One of the three moved to the driver's seat of Riley's van, while the remaining two pushed their way into the back and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Hello there, Riley. Did Ben finally come to his senses and abandon you?"

Riley gulped. Ian and his most trusted henchman, Shaw, were staring him down. "No, no…I, uh, actually have to bring him some stuff, so I should probably get going…"

He started to get up but was shoved back down by Shaw's strong hand. Ian fished Riley's keys out of his hoodie pocket and passed them to the front. Then the engine started and the whole van pitched forward.

"Hey! Don't you guys have your own getaway car? Now you've gotta steal mine too?"

"Shut up, Riley," Ian barked.

"What? No way! I—"

But Riley's mouth snapped shut as Ian pulled a gun seemingly out of nowhere.

"Well if you're so eager to speak all the time, why don't you tell me what, exactly, our friend Ben has found on the Declaration."

"I, uh... …we found…nothing?" Riley tried sitting up again in an attempt to get out of the way of Ian's pistol, but was shoved onto this back again by Shaw, much harder this time. But Riley didn't like being shoved, or man handled in any form, so he batted at Shaw's large hands and kicked spastically at him, all the while yelling, "Hey! Quit it, man…get off me!"

Shaw did move away, but only so Ian could bash Riley across the cheek with the handle of his gun. Riley's head snapped to the side and he saw stars for a moment. Then suddenly he was being man handled again as his arms were pulled roughly behind him and forced together at his wrists with what he could only assume was his own duct tape. What a waste.

Ian shoved him onto his back again and Riley blinked up at him. He vaguely remembered wearing his glasses but suddenly they were gone and now the right side of his face was stinging painfully where he'd been pistol whipped. "What's your problem, man…" he slurred.

"I'll ask you again," Ian demanded. "What did Ben find on the Declaration?"

"I dunno," Riley muttered. He really wanted to pass out all of a sudden and ignore his aching cheek. Shaw yanked him up by his hair and he was jerked awake.

"Come on, Riley," Ian growled. "I know how much you love to run that mouth of yours, now why don't you tell me what I need to know and you won't get hurt."

Riley's terrified gaze met Ian's and he saw that the British man was serious. Dead serious. He swallowed hard. "Uh, it was just a…a bunch of numbers…some kind of cipher…I don't remember what it was though." He felt bad giving away even this much, but it wasn't enough for Ian to go by, and Riley was telling the truth when he said he didn't remember the numbers or what exactly they were for. He did remember having to go to Philadelphia, but Ian didn't need to know that.

"It was another clue? I thought it was supposed to be the map?"

Riley tried to shrug, but stopped when he realized how badly his shoulders hurt from his arms being pulled behind him. "So…if that was it, you can let me go right? And my van of course."

Ian sighed and shook his head. "No, I think it would be best for everyone if you stayed with us."

Riley blinked. "Um…what?"

"I need some sort of insurance. A bargaining chip if you will. Ben has the Declaration, and all the clues. I am clearly at a disadvantage. But this is where Ben and I differ—he cares too much, and I'm sure he will gladly give up any information he has in return for your safety. Frankly, I don't care what happens to you."

"What?! But…come on, Ian. We-we're buddies, right? You buy me a new computer, I help you and Ben out with treasure stuff. I-I let you beat me at poker. It's a win-win situation that seems to have worked for a while now and I think we should stick with it and—"

"Do you know what your problem is?"

Riley blinked at him, his mind still a little sluggish from the blow to his face. "That I'm so much smarter and better looking than you?" If he had, in fact, been completely conscious of his situation, he most likely would have said something else.

"No," Ian growled, apparently not amused by the comment. "It's your big mouth."

Riley jumped at a loud ripping sound coming from somewhere behind him. Before he could even respond, Shaw had reached around him with the duct tape and pulled a strip taught over his lips and around his head.

"That's better," he said smugly.

Ian nodded and grinned maniacally down at Riley, who glared miserably back up at him.

"Aw, don't look so down, kid. It's a win-win situation, after all. You don't say anything and I don't feel annoyed enough to kill you..."

Ian looked like he might have wanted to gloat some more, but he was suddenly interrupted by the rumble of a vibrating phone. Riley's eyes widened as he felt the small object in his jeans pocket. It must have been Ben, probably wondering what was taking so long. Ben would help him, Riley was sure of it.

Ian nodded to Shaw who patted down Riley's hips to find the phone. Riley shivered as hands snuck down his sides and reached into his pockets. Soon the little vibrating device was found and Shaw tossed it to Ian, who flipped it open.

* * *

"Benjamin Franklin Gates! I can't _believe_ you are doing this. You know, I hope they catch you…maybe then you'll finally learn your lesson!"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure dad," he said as he found the book he was looking for nestled between some old history books. He was quick to hide it in his jacket. "Thank you Thomas Payne…"

"What? What did you say?" Patrick twisted himself as much as he could to see his son behind him.

"Nothing, dad." Ben moved to face his father, holding the remote control for the television out to his free hand. "I'm sorry about this, I really am, but it's something I have to do. Just…" he sighed. "Take care, dad."

With that he left the living room where his father was sitting, confined to his chair with a soda in one hand and the television remote in the other. Ben met Abigail in the entrance hall to the home and grinned disarmingly at her. She raised her eyebrows at him, clearly showing her disapproval of his plan.

"And you'd better take damn good care of that Declaration!"

"We will," Ben called back to his father. Abigail just shook her head.

Ben spied an old coat hanging on a hook near the door and fished through the pockets. "Aha," he said triumphantly, a set of car keys out. He held the door open and gentlemanly gestured for Abigail to go first. She did, sending Ben a smile that he hoped was more playful than criticizing.

"And now you're stealing your father's car," she said accusingly as Ben unlocked the doors to Patrick's Cadillac with the click of a button.

"Well we can't very well take Riley's van anymore, I think that would be a _little_ obvious." He paused just before getting into the driver's seat. "Where is he anyway?"

"Are you supposed to pick him up?"

"He was just getting his laptop and whatever else he needed. He's _supposed_ to meet us back at the house. But that was almost fifteen minutes ago."

"You do realize the FBI are on their way. _Right now_."

"Yes, thank you, I do realize we are in a hurry." Ben sighed, slightly annoyed now, though he wasn't sure who he was more annoyed at—Riley for not coming back to the house or Abigail for being as condescending as she was. "Get in. We're going to pick him up."

Ben sped down the few blocks to the lot where they had left the van, constantly checking his rearview mirror for flashing lights or any FBI looking vehicles. He really, _really_ didn't want to get caught now. Not with the stolen Declaration of Independence and a possible hostage. He wondered what Dr. Chase was even thinking of all this. She'd been happily surprised to see that Ben was right about the back of the document, and now it seemed she wanted to be as involved in the treasure hunt as he and Riley were. The more he thought about it, the more he figured that it wasn't exactly a bad thing to have her hanging around.

He circled the lot, drove around the park, checked every shadowed alleyway in the vicinity but saw no sign of Riley's van.

"Damn it, Riley," Ben muttered.

"Do you think he got cold feet?"

Ben shook his head. Abigail didn't know him well enough to think he would just chicken out and disappear like that. Riley was fiercely loyal to Ben and would always be there for him, unless something happened…

Ben didn't think twice. He pulled his phone out and used his speed dial to call Riley's cell. It rang once, twice…with a click it was answered.

"Riley, where are you? Where's the van?" he said quickly before Riley could even get a word out.

"Slow down, Ben," said a very un Riley like voice. Ben paled and Abigail sent him a concerned look. "Riley's right here. We're taking him and his van for a little ride."

"Ian," Ben growled. Abigail gasped, recognizing the name as being the man that had nearly kidnapped her for the Declaration. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Insurance, Ben. You've managed to hold on to the document and seen the back of it, which puts you a few steps ahead in our little game. I just thought I would even out the score a little."

Ben groaned. He couldn't give up the Declaration, or the new clues, but he couldn't leave Riley to get hurt either. And he knew instinctively that Ian and his goons wouldn't hesitate to hurt the young man. They had made their strong dislike for Riley and his antics very clear through the whole treasure hunt.

"So how do you want to do this, Ben? Are you going to help me get the treasure, or should I just shoot your little friend now and get it over with?"

"NO!" Ben shouted. "No, don't…just don't hurt him. Can I talk to him?"

Ian chuckled sadistically on the other line. "No, no I'm afraid that's impossible. I've shut him up, and frankly I like him a lot better when he's not running his mouth. I don't know why we never considered it before—we could have sewn his lips shut and found the treasure a long time ago."

"Ian, don't…"

"I'll tell you what Ben—you tell me what the next clue is and where you're headed, and we'll meet you there."

"No, Ian. No deal. I want to meet you _right_ now. I want to know Riley's okay."

"Sorry Ben, but we're already on the open road. I wouldn't want to be coming back anywhere near your dad's place. Not with the feds on their way. How was it, by the way?"

"What?"

"Seeing your dad. I'm sure he was thrilled to find out what you were doing."

"Yeah…thrilled. Where should we meet you?"

"'We'? Did you bring him with you, or are you still dragging Dr. Chase around?"

"Ben," Abigail whispered, looking frantically out the windows at their ominous surroundings. "We have to go…"

She was right. They'd been sitting there talking for a long few minutes by now. Ben didn't have that kind of time to spare, and he was definitely too frustrated to try to drive while talking to his mutinous financier.

"Ian, we don't have time for this. Where should we meet you?"

"That depends, Ben. Where are you going to solve your little cipher?"

So Riley had been able to tell him that much, but not where they were going. Ben shuddered, thinking of the horrible things they must have done to Riley to even get that much information from him.

"Philadelphia. We need to get to the Franklin Institute to see the Silence Dogood letters."

"Alright, Ben. You solve your little number puzzle, and I'll contact you in Philadelphia. Deal?"

"Like I have a choice?" Ben grumbled.

Ian laughed. "I guess not. See you later."

There was a click as the call was ended.

"What are we doing?" Abigail asked. "Where are we going?"

Ben started the car again and zoomed forward, heading for the highway. He passed her the book he'd taken from his father's house.

"'Common Sense'?"

"My dad usually keeps a few hundred dollars tucked in the pages. We're going to Phily and we need to change out of these clothes. Then we're going to get Riley back."

* * *

Ian flipped the phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. "See, that wasn't too bad. We're one step closer to the treasure." He smiled down at Riley, who glared up at him in response from where he was lying awkwardly on the floor of his own van.

Ian kept his little staring competition going for a minute before turning to the driver. "How much further?"

"Ten minutes, tops," the man called back.

Wow, Riley thought. They were almost there already? Was that even possible?

As if to answer Riley's unspoken question, Ian explained "We need to switch vehicles. I'm afraid we're a little conspicuous like this. But don't you worry…I've planned ahead."

He leant down and patted Riley's cheek with a smile. Riley flinched away and Ian laughed cruelly.

"This is going to be easier than I thought," he said, straightening up to look at Shaw. "By this time tomorrow we'll be rich men."

Shaw grinned back at his boss. Riley rolled his eyes and turned away from them. He had so many snappy come backs right now that he couldn't even say. It was hard enough to even breathe with the tape over his mouth. He had to consciously suck in every breath through his noise and try to ignore the stinging pain his cheek.

But that pain was easily drowned out by the growing ache in his arms and back. Rolling to his side had helped a little, but his shoulders were protesting every little move he made. He couldn't even feel his hands any more.

Stupid duct tape. Stupid Ian and Shaw and other guys. Stupid Riley, for getting into this stupid mess.

Suddenly the van hit a particularly large bump and lurched forward. Riley found himself sliding towards the front of the vehicle, unable to stop himself with his arms secured behind him. The top of his head hit hard on the jumbled mess of mother boards and other technological stuff as the van came to a screeching stop.

Ian threw the back door open as Shaw grabbed Riley by the collar of his hoodie. He was yanked out of the car rather roughly and fell to his knees on the pavement as his head swam. He looked around and blinked stars out of his eyes, only to find that they were in some kind of an underground garage that was completely empty except for a single compact car parked across from the two vans.

Shaw pulled Riley up by his hood and forced him towards the car. Three of Ian's goons had already squeezed into the back seat, leaving Shaw and Ian to take up the front seats. So where was Riley going to sit?

He watched with dread as Ian leaned down into the driver's seat. A second later the trunk popped open with a slight whooshing sound. Riley gulped.

"In you go," Shaw said.

He tightened his grip on Riley's hood and forced him forward. Riley struggled, he really did. He dug his Chuck Taylors into the pavement and twisted his body this way and that to try to get away. He did not want to get in the trunk. He could not stress how badly he did not want to be in that cramped, dark space.

Shaw, growing impatient with Riley's lame struggling, kicked out the back of the young man's legs. Riley let out a muffled groan and would have collapsed to his knees again if not for Shaw's iron grip on his sweatshirt. With his other hand, Shaw grasped the back of Riley's belt and hoisted him up and off the ground.

Riley was still struggled like mad, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the nausea that was rising in his stomach. But it was no use as Shaw plopped Riley callously into the trunk and ignored the younger man's muffled protests as he slammed the door shut, leaving Riley trapped in the darkness.


	2. Road To Philly

**Chapter II: Road to Philly**

Ian's car continued to speed along, headed for Philadelphia. Meanwhile, in the dark, stuffy, trunk, Riley felt every bump and pothole that was hit along the way. Between the constant jerking and the head wound he had sustained, he found himself feeling extremely nauseous. But he couldn't even throw up and make a mess in Ian's trunk—not with the duct tape sealing his mouth shut. He moaned. This _sucks_.

Riley wasn't even sure how long they'd been driving. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness a few times, unable to stay awake in the darkness. Now he had to mentally force himself to stay awake. Because if he didn't, he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep breathing. The air was growing thicker by the minute, and there was only so much oxygen he could suck in through his nose. He had to get out before he suffocated.

He'd seen people get out of trunks in movies—how hard could it be in real life? Really? All he needed to do was get his bound hands in front of him, then he could find something pointy and get the tape off. And there was always a switch or something to open the trunk from the inside, built specifically for these kinds of scary situations. Then he'd wait for the car to stop, pop out the back, and book it to wherever as fast as he could. Easy enough.

The trunk was small, but thankfully Riley was smaller. That didn't change the fact that he still wasn't the most flexible guy in the world, making the whole getting his arms to the front part of his plan very difficult. But Riley wasn't one to give up on something, especially when his own life was the something that he would be giving up on. He knew Ian didn't like him and even if he didn't kill him, Shaw or one of those other guys sure as hell would.

Riley laid on his side so he could stretch his arms out behind him as straight as he could and curl his legs up beneath him. He bent his body very awkwardly into a position that he was sure would look extremely funny in any other situation. Somehow, groaning with the effort, he managed to get a single leg back through his arms. He could have cried right there, first out of joy that he'd gotten this far, then over how ridiculously uncomfortable he suddenly was. His body was hunched and legs spread with his bound wrists between them, stuck together under his crotch. _Owie…_

Getting the other leg through was significantly more difficult than it had been to get the first one through. More difficult _and_ more painful. He was moving in ways he never thought he could, or even should attempt to. And he hoped to God Ian and his guys couldn't hear him through the backseat because he sure couldn't contain all the little pained and frustrated grunting sounds he was making.

He had his eyes squeezed shut and became painfully aware that it was getting increasingly more difficult to breathe. He let out a pitiful whimper and was tempted to give up and succumb to how ridiculously stupid he was going to look when Ian opened his trunk again. Then suddenly, he bent his knee further than he ever had before, knocking it against the inside of the trunk and cracking the joints painfully.

Ahhh, sweet relief.

He'd managed, somehow, through some freakish miracle, to get his bound arms in front of him. He nearly cried with relief again, but then choked on the stuffy air in the trunk. He really, _really_ needed to get the tape off his mouth. But first things first.

Riley swept his numb fingers around in front of him. He couldn't see a damn thing in the dark, so he had to rely on his sense of touch, though he wasn't sure how reliable that was going to be. His arms were sore and moving was difficult, especially now that his hoodie had slipped down to his elbows in his struggles. Not to mention that he could barely feel his hands with the duct tape wrapped so tightly around his wrists…

A pained curse that sounded like a pitifully muffled "Mrphr!" through the tape over his mouth as he suddenly retracted his fingers. There was something sharp in the trunk, and he was pretty sure he was now wounded somewhere between the middle and pointer fingers on his left hand. Wait a minute…something sharp?

The second he'd refocused his cloudy mind he found the pointy object again and brought his duct taped wrists to it. From there what felt like hours passed as Riley rhythmically pulled the tape against the small piece of metal that was most likely part of the locking mechanism of the trunk. He was feeling tired again, his head pounding with each move he made. Eventually though, he heard the loud sound of the tape beginning to tear. A few more pulls and it was torn completely through.

Riley took a couple of deep breaths as best as he could while he flexed his tingling fingers. Once he got enough feeling back in his hands to make them at least functional, he reached up to his face and traced the tape over his mouth with his fingers. He found the edge of the tape somewhere at the back of his head and he had to bend awkwardly again to get his arm up enough to reach it.

He had a good grip on the edge and was peeling it off when he stopped. His mind was so fuzzy that he'd nearly forgotten how badly this was going to hurt. It was okay coming off his wrists because, well, he could barely feel them anyway. His face on the other hand…

He sucked in a deep breath and braced himself as best he could. Basically he squeezed his eyes shut and scrunched his face into a grimace, figuring he'd get that over with at least. Then he pulled as hard and as quickly as he could, letting out a scratchy cry of pain as he did so. But he immediately stifled said cry with his hand. The last thing he wanted was for someone in the car to hear him.

Riley pulled his hand away after a moment and moved his stiff jaw around, wincing at the lingering sting in his lips and cheek. He was pretty sure his lame attempt at having some cool, grown up looking facial hair was just yanked away with the tape. He hadn't even bothered to pull the whole strip off the other side of his face. He didn't think he could lift his head enough to get it off.

What he could do was finally breathe through his mouth, though the action was seriously not as fulfilling as he would have liked it to be. The air was too stifling in the trunk. And hot, he suddenly noticed. He was practically drenched in sweat, and feeling very, very tired…

_No_, he thought as he forced his mind to wake up again. He'd gotten this far. There was no way he was giving up and waiting for Ian or whoever to find him and beat the crap out of him.

He ran his fingers around the trunk of the car, twisting his body around to feel at every inch of the small space. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic, he suddenly thought. Or afraid of the dark, for that matter.

He got his finger around what felt like a small, plastic lever located in a corner somewhere above his head. He held his breath in anticipation as he pulled the lever.

_Click._

This time Riley did cry out in relief, a shaky sobbing sound that he was very glad no one else could hear. The trunk had opened a crack and cool, refreshing air entered the small space. Riley didn't think oxygen had ever tasted so sweat.

He pushed the trunk open an inch and any jovial feelings he'd had about getting the thing open were immediately dashed. He'd forgotten one little detail—the car was still moving. Damn it, now what?

After wallowing in his own sorrows for a moment, his head cleared enough for him to wonder where exactly he was. He peeked out of the crack and found that they were no longer on the highway. In fact they seemed to be driving along some nice, Pennsylvania country road. The sun had risen, making Riley wonder exactly how long he'd been stuck in the trunk. They must have been near Philadelphia already, maybe taking some back roads to avoid highway traffic. Or the police.

Riley estimated the car was going maybe thirty miles an hour at most. The car was turning on the rapidly winding road and there were no other vehicles in sight. Just some trees and bushes and soft cushy grass…

Riley blinked. The cool air had definitely succeeded in waking him up and he found himself devising a plan. Maybe not a completely ingenious plan—Ben could probably think up a better one—but it was a plan that he could easily execute, hopefully without hurting himself too badly.

Every time the car turned, Riley felt himself shifting around in the trunk. He waited for that feeling, the one that came just before a particularly large turn. The car slowed a little as Riley pushed open the trunk just enough for him to roll out without anyone in the car seeing that it had opened.

He fell—rather ungracefully—out of the trunk and onto the graveled road with a short cry. His right side hit hard and he had the wind knocked out of him for a moment as he tumbled down the street. The last he saw of Ian's car was when it hit a bump that was large enough to cause the trunk to rise and fall and ultimately seal itself shut again. Then it was out of sight around the bend.

Riley just lay there on his back, in the middle of the road, for quite a while. He couldn't keep the wide, relieved smile off his face as he stared up into the light blue sky. He figured it was about early morning. Maybe eightish. Good time for a nap…

No, Riley, he told himself. No time for a nap. That's the head trauma talking. He had to get out of there before Ian came back looking for them. As far as Riley could tell though, they hadn't even noticed he was gone. But they still had his phone. And there was absolutely no one around to help him. There was only one thing Riley could do—walk.

He sat up slowly, wincing as new pains erupted over his body. He pushed himself to his feet. His legs were okay. His arms were okay. In fact, everything was pretty much okay, just a little sorer than usual. He probably just had a few scrapes and bruises, most notably on his right shoulder where he'd ripped right through his T shirt. Damn, he really liked that shirt, too.

Now that he was standing, he pulled his intact hoodie back up to his shoulders, wincing as the material brushed against his scraped arm and back. He sighed, put his hands on his hips and looked around.

"Okey dokey," he said out loud to himself. Speaking reminded him that the tape was still on his face and he was quick to pull it off, wincing as he did so. "Where to now?"

He balled up the rather long strip of duct tape along with the pieces that had been dangling off his wrists and tossed them in the bushes. He didn't even care if he was littering. He had more important things to worry about. Like what he was going to do to avoid getting captured and killed.

He stuck to the side of the road and walked among the bushes in the direction that Ian had gone. But what a stupid idea. Walking. Really? Why did he ever think that would even remotely be a plausible solution to his problem?

Riley had been walking for barely ten minutes when it dawned on him that he was not the most athletic guy in the world. Sure he wasn't morbidly obese, but he wasn't physically fit either. He had the skinny, guy-who-spends-too-much-time-sitting-in-front-of-a-computer look going on.

In fact he didn't think he'd ever walked more than a few city blocks at one time alone before in his life. He was proud to say he'd managed to get out of many a gym class in high school. There was nothing _wrong_ with him really. But he had quickly discovered that carrying around a fake inhaler would successfully excuse him from running the mile and allow him to spend his free time in the computer lab.

The only time Riley really felt the need to exert himself physically was when he was being chased by dogs (they seemed to inertly know he was allergic, and therefore flocked to him in the streets), being chased by people who intended to do him bodily harm, and trying to get away from an exploding ship. That last one was new to the list, thanks to Ben. Riley was a damn good sprinter when the situation called for it, but distance… He was no good at distance.

And the bump on his head wasn't helping much, either. He'd imagined the wound looking something like in cartoons, when someone gets hit by a mallet and a gigantic mound grows where they were struck. But after prodding at the sore spot on the top of his head, Riley came to two conclusions—one, to never prod at it again, and two, that there was no giant, three inch high lump on his skull. There was a slight gash on the top of his scalp, though. The sticky stuff he felt in his hair was in fact blood and he couldn't help but cringe at the sight. He felt woozy just thinking about it.

After dwelling on all of these little facts and complaining about them quietly to himself, Riley found he could go no further. He was really, really tired and had no idea where he was. He hadn't seen any signs pointing him in Philadelphia's direction. In fact, he hadn't seen much of anything besides rolling, grassy hills and random forested areas. He passed a few farms located some ways off the street and figured that he was most likely in some area inhabited by Amish people.

So if he couldn't walk any further and the locals were going to be no help, what could he possibly do to get to Philly and Ben before Ian came back for him? There was only one thing to do—

"I'll hitch," Riley said confidently to himself in the hopes of dispelling any queasiness that had risen at the idea of hitchhiking.

Riley sank down on the side of the road and mad himself comfortable on a rock that was clearly in sight to any passer bys. And he waited. And waited. And waited some more. He started to nod off, thinking just how unlucky he was to be stranded on the one road that even horse and buggies refused to travel on. He could only hope that when he woke up he wouldn't be in Ian's trunk again.

A horn honked and Riley jerked awake in surprise. He was still sitting on the side of the road, his head resting on one hand while his other had kept his thumb held out in typical hitching style. Only now there was a car in front of him. And it wasn't Ian's car.

"Hey there, fella. You okay?"

An older man—older than Ben at least—had pulled his pickup truck over and was now calling out to Riley through his passenger side window.

Riley blinked. "S-sorry, what?" He cringed at his own rough sounding voice and winced at how dry his throat was. He clearly hadn't yet taken dehydration into consideration when he'd begun his journey.

"You get in an accident or somethin'?"

"Uh, yeah," Riley said as loudly as he could. He cleared his throat and came up with a great story on the spot. "My bike…it crashed in the woods and, uh, it's broken. Could I…get a ride? Maybe?"

Riley couldn't exactly read the man's expression while he studied the young "bicyclist." After a somewhat tense moment he finally spoke, mumbling something about how bad the bike paths in the park had gotten and how dangerous they were. Riley didn't even hear exactly what was said. He was just too ecstatic that this guy actually believed his story.

"Come on in, kid," he said. He pushed open the passenger side door and scooted back to the driver's seat.

Riley was cautious at first, as a voice in his head that sounded annoyingly like his mother's told him not to get in a car with a stranger. He shrugged the voice away, convincing himself this was his only way back to Ben. He ran a quick hand through his hair, then yanked the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide the red marks that he noticed were striping his wrists. He convinced himself that his few visible injuries could in fact be passed off as being from a bicycle accident and scrambled into the car.

"Thanks a lot," he said genuinely as he forced a quick smile to the man that was saving him.

He noticed the man was definitely older than Ben—in fact he was a lot older than Ben. Maybe sixty something. He had wisps of white hair spread thin over his balding head. His skin was gnarled and wrinkled with age, but his deep brown eyes held a kindness that Riley could only describe as a grandfatherly trait. Overall, he seemed like a very nice, very trustworthy guy.

"Name's Mike," he said, extending his hand out to Riley, who shook it while making sure his wrists stayed out of sight.

"Ri…Ryan," Riley said brightly, proud of himself for being able to make up a better name than "Bill" on the spot.

"So, Ryan," Mike said as he put the car in gear and slowly pulled back onto the road. "Where're you headed?"

"Philadelphia," Riley said without hesitation.

Mike whistled. "Well it's a good twenty miles left to Philly. That's quite a bike ride."

Riley shifted nervously in his seat, glad that Mike wasn't taking his eyes off the pavement in front of him. "Yeah, well, I like riding my bike. It's good exercise. And, you know, save the environment and…global warming and stuff."

Mike actually chuckled. "That's very good of you Ryan."

Riley nodded in response. His throat hurt from even a little bit of talking and he was glad Mike wasn't pressing him for information. In fact, the older man didn't say anything for a good ten minutes. The tense silence made Riley nervous and he had half a mind to start some random conversation to keep himself conscious if nothing else. The last he wanted to do was pass out and find out this old guy had less than good intentions.

Just as he was about to say anything that popped into his head Mike's hand moved from the wheel and traveled downward. Riley actually flinched at the movement, then called himself stupid as he saw Mike moving for the radio dial.

"Hope you don't mind."

Riley shook his head. "Not at all."

Fifty minutes passed after that and Riley realized that he really did mind, as those fifty minutes were the longest of his life. Not only did Mike drive like a stereotypical old man, but his taste in music consisted of very, very bad country. Riley cringed at every twang of the singers' voices, at every out of tune guitar solo, at every lame attempt at making the harmonica sound good…

The one good thing was that the music, coupled with Mike's humming, was keeping Riley wide awake. There was nothing, not even the pain or exhaustion he felt, that could make him tune out the God awful noise.

Then, finally out of the fields came civilization and the outskirts of Philadelphia. They were almost there. Riley sighed with relief.

"So where should I leave you?"

Riley was startled by Mike's voice. "Uh…I've got to meet a friend…but you can just leave me…wherever."

"You sure? Cause it's no trouble, really. I wasn't doing anything today anyway."

Riley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Spending the day driving with Mike and his country music station did not sound like fun. "No, ah…I'm good. Really."

"Alright," Mike said with what could have been amusement in his voice. He pulled the car over and turned off the engine. Then he turned to look at Riley for the first time since their introduction. "You sure you're okay, sonny?"

Riley smirked at being called "sonny" and nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm sure." He started to climb out of the car. "Thanks a lot Mike. I mean seriously. A million thank yous. You're awesome."

Mike chuckled at the younger man. "See you around, Ryan."

Riley smiled and gave him a wave before turning a corner, glad that Mike hadn't alluded to any kind of payment, be it money or otherwise. Once he was out of sight of Mike's pick up, Riley leaned heavily against a graffiti clad building and sighed. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, but he was no stranger to the streets of Philly. Ben had dragged him around to all the historically relevant stuff numerous times.

Looking around he found that the streets were pretty quiet. He still had a little ways to go before he was in the heart of the city. Riley took a deep breath, set a determined look on his face, and started off to his left, a direction that looked more promising than his right.

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews on the repeated chapter, guys :) I barely had time to read them 'cause phew I've been busy. I wanna keep up this every other day posting thing, but just in case I can't I'm apologizing now…if that makes any sense. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Playing Catch Up

**Chapter III: Playing Catch Up**

Sometime later, after walking in circles around Philadelphia, Riley found himself outside of the Franklin Institute.

"Finally," he muttered.

Directions were not one of Riley's strong suits, unless of course he had his trusty computer with him. He sighed. He missed his computer already. All his precious technological gadgets were gone forever. Gone when Ian took his van. He shook his head. Ben would help him get all his stuff back, he knew it. But first he had to actually _find_ Ben.

He'd peeked into the Institute, looking for familiar faces. He found none and was getting some stares from other patrons as well as the few guards posted by the door. He must have looked weird being there by himself. After all, what kind of a guy his age wants to spend time at a museum?

Once he'd announced that he was "all good" to anyone that might have been listening, he retreated back outside where he noticed some empty benches across the street. Not knowing what else to do he crossed the street, nearly got hit by a tour bus in the process, and sank down onto a bench, finally succumbing to his exhaustion and utter despair.

He'd been counting on Ben being here. But what if Ben had already come and gone, and Riley was stuck waiting for nothing? Stupid Riley. Should have found a phone and just called Ben. That would have been a way better idea. Too bad he hadn't thought about it before sitting down, because he definitely didn't want to get back up anytime soon.

"Just stay awake, Riley," he muttered to himself as his eyes started to close again. He really was exhausted. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever felt this tired before. Ever. And now, all the little aches and pains he'd felt from falling out of the trunk were coming back to him, as well as that knock on the head he'd suffered. Soon he wasn't going to be able to even force himself to stay awake.

Riley wasn't sure how long he sat there with his eyelids drooping and shooting open again every few minutes. At one point his eyes opened a crack and he found himself fully awake by what he spotted across the street. Two familiar figures, one a tall male with wispy brown hair and the other a smaller, blonder female—Ben and Dr. Chase.

"Hooray, I'm saved," Riley mumbled with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

He made no move to stand. He just sat there with a goofy little smile on his face, waiting to see Ben's reaction when he finally spotted his missing friend. Right now Ben looked kind of…flustered. He had that puzzled look on his face when he was thinking too hard or worrying about something. Maybe the fact that the mean Declaration lady was still following him around had something to do with it. She was pretty annoying after all. They had different clothes on, Riley noticed. Huh. Wonder when they had time to go shopping.

Ben was still rushing around, circling the outside of the Institute and looking around nervously while Dr. Chase followed suit. Riley grinned. They were going to find him…Ben was looking this way… …no Ben, this way…not over there…

Riley's grin faded when they turned back to the museum, about to ascend the stairs and disappear inside. They'd looked right at him and hadn't seen him. Crap, that meant he'd actually have to get up to get the treasure hunters' attention. Getting up was the last thing he wanted to do right now, but he really _really _didn't want to sit there all alone any longer than he had to.

"Hey, Ben," he called weakly while he pushed himself up off the bench with an annoyed groan. Riley crossed the street, nearly got hit by a tour bus again, and called out to his friend a little louder. "Benjamin Franklin Gates!"

Finally a response: "Riley, oh my God!"

Before Riley could even take another step forward Ben had bounded down the stairs outside the Institute and dashed to Riley's side. He took Riley completely by surprise when Ben brought his arms over around his back in what Riley could only assume was supposed to be a "manly" hug. Riley, not quite knowing how to react, and feeling maybe a little nervous at being manhandled even by Ben, stayed stiff as a board until their awkward little embrace ended.

"Hey, Ben," Riley said quietly with a relieved grin on his face.

"Riley… I… You… What happened? Where's Ian?"

Riley shrugged. He was feeling very tired again and was suddenly very thankful Ben had yet to release the grip he held on his shoulder. His _left_ shoulder. "I dunno. But he's gonna be super pissed when he finds out I'm not in his trunk anymore."

Ben looked horrified. "In his _trunk_?! How did you get out?"

Riley just shook his head. "I did things no man should ever have to do. It was cool though. I've never fallen out of a moving vehicle before."

He'd said this with a smile and had mean for it to be a weird joke, but when he saw the furious expression on Ben's face he figured he must not have been as funny as he thought.

"I just…I can't believe Ian. I mean, he seemed like an alright guy when I started working with him."

"Oh," Riley mumbled. "Yeah, until that whole trying blowing us up on the Charlotte thing."

"Well, you're back and okay, and everything's back to normal."

Riley grinned. He knew Ben missed him.

"Ian's not calling all the shots anymore. He's lost his collateral, so we're free to find the treasure ourselves. All we need to do is figure out the cipher and we'll be a step ahead again."

Riley groaned. "Oh that's right—we're all about the treasure."

"What?"

"Yay, treasure," Riley said with mock enthusiasm.

"Are you sure you're okay, Riley?"

Riley had never even said that he was okay in the first place. In fact Ben had never even asked. He just kind of assumed that because Riley was walking and talking there was nothing broken in his brain, which meant that everything was fine and they were free to continue their treasure hunt.

Riley sighed and ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he suddenly remembered the bump on the top of his head. "I'm fine, really."

Ben actually chuckled. "Riley—have you even seen yourself? You look like..."

"Like I've been stuck in a trunk all night?"

"Yeah and then some."

"It's not that bad."

"Trust us, Riley," Abigail said, suddenly stepping forward. "It's that bad."

"We should get you to a hospital."

Riley paled, even more so than he already was. He liked that Ben was paying attention to him, but he didn't need _that_ much attention. "No I don't need…I'm fine. No hospital."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…I'm just, um…thirsty?"

Ben chuckled again, the only way he could release the nervous tension he'd been feeling since Riley was kidnapped. He clapped his friend on the back. "Sure kid. Whatever you want."

"I need a new shirt, too."

"We can do that. First let's get this clue found. Then we're hitting the town."

"Oh, boy..."

The smile on Ben's face grew impossibly wider as they strolled into the Franklin Institute, cipher in hand. He draped his arm over Riley's shoulders, completely oblivious to his younger friend's wincing. "It's good to have you back, Riley."

* * *

"But you guys got new outfits," Riley whined from the back seat of the car.

"Sorry Riley," Ben said shaking his head. "We've got to get to Independence Hall before 2:22."

Riley huffed in disappointment and moved to make himself more comfortable. "Your dad's car smells weird."

Ben smiled at that, trying to make eye contact with the younger man through his rearview mirror. But Riley had succeeded in finding a comfortable spot and his eye lids were shut. Exhaustion seemed to have finally caught up with him and Ben felt a twang of guilt in his chest just looking at him. He wasn't sure what he felt worse about—them not having time to help Riley with his wardrobe issues or Riley getting kidnapped in the first place.

"No, wait," Riley mumbled from the back. "It's me that smells weird."

This time even Abigail couldn't contain a slight chuckle. "I think you smell lovely, Riley."

She was just being nice, Ben knew. Riley did not in fact "smell lovely." Rather he smelt like he'd been…left tied up in a trunk overnight and then spent the morning walking around aimlessly in the Philadelphia Spring heat.

Riley had given the couple a very brief explanation of his ordeal between stuffing his face with food and aspirin and drowning himself in an iced tea. They'd gone for lunch to a little café after figuring out the cipher from the Silence Dogood Letters. Ben had passed the time half listening to what happened to Riley and Abigail explaining what she and Ben had been doing, and half thinking intensely about this new clue.

It was only while he was paying for their lunch with one of his father's hundred dollar bills that he remembered what was depicted on the currency. He was ecstatic that he'd figured out the clue, until he glanced down at his diver's watch. It was after two already and they still had to get to Independence Hall and sneak up to the bell tower. So he rushed his companions out to the car, even while Riley complained that he was still hungry and he hadn't gotten his new hoodie yet.

"Do you think I smell _lovely_, Ben?"

"Sure, Riley," Ben said with a smirk. "Like…pretty smelling flowers."

"Mmm…yeah I do."

* * *

Before they knew it they were a couple of blocks away from Independence Hall, parked at a safe distance just in case Ian and his goons were around. Ben hadn't heard from Ian yet, and he assumed that they had already discovered Riley had escaped. He wondered if his ex partner was going to try to go ahead with the whole hostage negotiation thing, even when he didn't have a hostage anymore. Ben kind of hoped he did, just so he and Riley could rub it in the smug Brit's face.

"Come on, Riley," Ben called as he and Abigail got out of the car. "We're here."

He wrenched open the back door and peered in at his young friend who had curled up in the backseat. His eyes were closed and Ben would have believed he was asleep if he didn't suddenly let out a whiny groan. "But Ben…I'm _tired_."

"I know you are," Ben responded calmly as he reached in to gently grasp his friend's arm. "But I'm not leaving you here. Not with Ian around."

Riley grumbled something nonsensically in response and let Ben pull him out of the car and support him to his tired feet.

"2:22, Riley," Ben said while pointedly looking at his watch.

"Yeah, I know," Riley mumbled.

Within minutes they were at Independence Hall, and Ben found it alarmingly easy to leave the tour guide and sneak into restricted areas to get to the bell tower. There was only one problem…

"'Timely shadow'?" Abigail said. "But the shadow's pointing at…nothing!"

"Damn it," Ben said under his breath. She was right. The shadow the tower was casting was stretching out over the street. It was going to be hard to tell where it was pointing to exactly and even then…why would it lead them to Independence Hall and then point them in the direction they'd come from?

"Well, that's not right," Riley muttered as he finally got to see what Ben and Abigail were looking at. "But…oh, wait a second…"

Ben turned to the young computer geek, recognizing the smug, I-know-something-you-don't-know look on his face. "What is it, Riley?"

"Wait, you mean I know something about history that you don't know?"

"Apparently so…now would you enlighten us, please?"

"Wait, let me just, _wow_, take in this moment," Riley said, his grin growing impossibly wider at the bewildered look on Ben's face. "This is cool. Is this how you feel all the time?"

"Riley," Abigail snapped impatiently.

"Okay, okay. What _I_ know that you _don't_ know is that Daylights Savings Time didn't happen until World War I. So it's not 2:22, it's…"

"We still have an hour," Abigail exclaimed, interrupting Riley from his moment.

"Yeah…hey, do you actually know who the first person to suggest Daylights Savings was?"

"Benjamin Franklin," Ben and Abigail said simultaneously.

"Darn it," Riley said, stamping his feet in frustration.

Ben chuckled and clapped his friend on the back, ignorant to Riley's flinching as he did so.

"Looks like we have some time to kill," he said as he sunk down to the floor of the bell tower. "We might as well make ourselves comfortable."

Riley looked more than happy to be able to sit and rest. He slouched down next to Ben's right side and leaned his weary head on the pillar behind him. Abigail, however, was still apprehensive.

"What about Ian? He's going to be looking for us. And what if someone from the Institute finds us up here? This area is restricted, Ben…"

Ben's hand encircled her wrist and gently pulled her down to sit on his other side. "If you sit down and stop yelling no one will find us." He grinned disarmingly at her, in that charming way of his.

Abigail relented, rolling her eyes and biting her lip to keep her smile at bay. "Whatever you say, mister fugitive."

"Hey you're a fugitive too, you know," Riley mumbled tiredly. "Aiding and…betting, or something like that…"

"That's right," Ben said brightly, as though the whole situation were ironically funny to him. "We could all be going to jail for a very, very long time."

"You make it sound like a good thing," Riley said as his eyes fell shut. "I'm not going to jail. I was the hostage, hostages don't go to jail."

Ben grinned. "You keep telling yourself that, buddy."

He waited expectantly for one of Riley's trademark witty comments, only to have the young man's head tip over onto Ben's shoulder as he finally fell asleep.

"Awww," Abigail cooed. "You two are just adorable together."

Ben let out a sarcastic chuckle before letting his attention turn to his exhausted friend. Now that Riley was unconscious, Ben could look him over without hearing any complaints or whining or insistence that there was nothing wrong. He'd cleaned up well—there was no more blood sticking in his hair and Ben couldn't even see the injury on his scalp. His cheek, on the other hand, was rapidly changing colors as a dark, purplish hue formed around a small but painful looking cut. Riley had mentioned something about being "pistol whipped," as he so eloquently put it.

Ben growled to himself in fury—not over the detached explanation Riley had given, but rather at Ian for having done any of this to him. At least his cheek wasn't swelling too badly, and the red marks from the duct tape had just about faded from his mouth and wrists. Still…Ben's blood boiled.

"It could have been a lot worse, you know," a soft voice said. Ben turned slowly to Abigail, after nearly forgetting she was there with him. "He's lucky he got away."

Ben nodded stiffly. They'd just met this woman but it was as though she could read Ben like a book—at least when he was really Ben Gates.

"Thank you," he said, turning to look her in the eyes to show his sincerity. "Thank you for staying and helping us. If Ian had…and Riley'd been…" He let out a shaky sigh. "I don't know what I would have done."

Abigail smiled whole heartedly, various emotions shining through her blue eyes. She quickly blinked them away, shaking her head as though to hide how she truly felt about her new companion.

"There was no way I was going to let you get away with the Declaration," she said. "I'd lose my job."

Then Ben chuckled, dismissing his own revealing emotional state.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence while they listened to Riley's steady, sleeping breathes.

"You should get some rest too, you know," Ben said quietly as he caught Abigail stifling a yawn with her hand.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "If anyone needs the rest, it's you, Ben."

Ben shook his head. "I couldn't sleep now if I wanted too. My brain is thinking too hard."

Abigail let out a soft laugh, the sound of which made Ben's heart flutter.

"Fine," she said. "But you'd better wake me up at the right time. I want to see this treasure of yours as much as you do."

"Deal," he said with a smile. Within minutes she was sleeping peacefully, resting against his free shoulder. His smile grew wider as he watched her and Riley sleep. He moved as quietly as he could, pulling his arms up and over both of their shoulders to hug them closer to his body.

* * *

"_Phew._"

"What?"

"It's just that…the last time this was here…it was being signed."

Riley glared at him. "Ben, there's another tour coming," he stated, frustration evident in his voice.

Ben ignored him and kept unrolling the document. He'd awoken his friends just before 2:22 after managing to catch at least a half an hour of sleep for himself—apparently he'd been more tired than he'd thought. Riley was still grumpy from being woken up, but Ben knew from experience that Riley was never very pleasant after being rudely awakened. Now they had Ben Franklin's old x-ray specs and were one step closer to the Templar treasure. But what they found was not exactly what they expected.

"Why can't they just say go to this place, here's the treasure, spend it wisely?"

Sudden movement from just outside the window caught Ben's eye. "Oh, no."

Riley saw what he was looking at and turned ghostly pale. It was Ian and Shaw and Ian's other guys. And they looked super pissed. "How'd they find us?"

"Ian has nearly unlimited resources," Ben said matter of factly even as he rapidly rolled the Declaration back up with his shaking hands. "And he's smart. We definitely don't want him to have both the Declaration and the glasses."

"So what do we do?"

"Separate the lock from key. We split up." Ben passed Abigail the canister with the Declaration while shouldering his own empty canister.

"Really?" Riley didn't like the sound of that…not one bit.

"Yes," Ben snapped. "Split up and meet back at the car. Call me if there're any problems."

"You mean like if we get caught and killed?"

"Yeah, that would be a problem," Ben said impatiently. "Just take care of her."

"I will."

"I will."

* * *

"Ben, Ben…I'm sorry, Ben."

Riley could practically hear Ben's disappointment through the phone. "It'll be alright. Meet me at the car." _Click_.

"What did he say?" Abigail said.

"He hung up on me," Riley muttered.

"I'm not surprised," she said rolling her eyes. "But what did he _say_?"

"He said meet by the car. It's around here somewhere…"

They turned a corner just in time to see Ben being frisked by FBI agents.

"Oh, no," Riley moaned. He moved to take a step forward, as though he could possibly save his friend from being taken into police custody. But Abigail had enough sense to pull him away and back around the corner. They dashed down a few blocks, stopping at a quiet park when Riley complained that he couldn't run anymore.

He sank down on a bench and put his head in his hands. Abigail, meanwhile, had a plan already circulating in her mind. They needed to save Ben, but there was only one possible way they could do that…

"Riley…do you know how we can get in touch with Ian?"

* * *

_Alright, so I know I've skipped a couple of things, but I don't want to have to repeat everything later so I tried to split it up fairly. Editing these to be stand alone stories is more of a pain than I thought it would be, but we'll see what happens. Just assume that anything left out of any of these happens like it did in the movie :)_


	4. Friends Without Benefits

**Chapter IV: Friends Without Benefits**

They arrived in New York City towards the end of rush hour just as the sun was setting behind the massive skyscrapers.

"Come on, Riley," Abigail said as she nudged at her sleeping traveling companion. "We're here."

"Five more minutes, mom," he whined, his eyes still tightly shut.

Abigail was getting impatient now. How Ben had ever managed to put up with this young man, she would never know. "No five minutes, we have to get off _now_ or we'll be stuck until the next stop."

"S'okay…I like Jersey…"

She rolled her eyes and hauled him none too gently to his feet. He moaned and winced and whined but didn't resist as she pulled him off the train and out of Penn Station. The city was very crowded this time of night, which was good for them. Ben may have been captured, but that didn't mean the FBI weren't still looking for his associates. The packed New York streets were probably the best place to hide from the authorities.

"Come on," she said, glancing up at the street signs. 31st Street… "We need to go further down town."

"Lead the way, chief," Riley mumbled.

Abigail kept her grasp on Riley's arm the whole way. The last thing she wanted was to lose him in a crowd again. It was dark by now, the dim artificial lights helping them hide even as the crowds dispersed. She wondered if Ian was already in the city, and if he was going to be looking for them as well.

"Okay, Riley," she said as she pulled the younger man to a stop on a shadowed side street. "Here's the plan. We need someplace to stay for the night. A hotel or something. We also need some basic supplies and I only have one of Ben's hundred dollar bills left. Hotel's in the city are expensive, so…"

Riley raised his hand to silence her as he reached into his back pocket. In a second he'd retrieved a small and rather beat up looking Star Wars wallet. "Thank God Ian didn't take this. I don't know what I'd do without my storm trooper protecting my money…" He flipped it open and shuffled through his license and credit cards before retrieving a fistful of wrinkled bills. "Aha, my secret cache of cash."

She grabbed them out of his hand and counted out fifty seven dollars—twelve of which were singles.

"See, Riley," she said with a forced smile. "I knew you were good for something."

If Riley heard her last comment, he didn't acknowledge it. "Wow. I didn't even know I had that much."

"Let's go," Abigail said, yanking Riley along before he even had a chance to stuff his wallet back into his pocket.

They found a little convenience shop not far from a decent looking hotel. They were still pretty far from where they needed to be on Broadway, but that was for the best. The plan was to stay out of sight and keep tabs on Ian until they knew Ben was safe.

Riley whined when Abigail limited their shopping list down to only the fifty seven dollars, which meant that they could only buy necessary stuff. Not a whole new outfit.

"But I fell out of a trunk," he moaned.

"We'll just wash the clothes you're wearing," Abigail hissed, not wanting him to cause a scene with his complaining. "We can't afford to buy you a whole new wardrobe. You're lucky we're getting something to sleep in."

"Oh, man," he mumbled. "Not fair."

She ignored him and paid for what they had: bottled water, some snack foods, toothbrushes and toothpaste, deodorant (Riley's request), a bottle of Advil for Abigail's growing headache, a pack of plain white undershirts, and two pairs of boxers. The couple would be wearing matching pajamas to bed. She didn't mind, and Riley wasn't really saying much anymore, which was fine by her.

Their total came to about thirty dollars, a fact that Abigail kept from Riley so he wouldn't whine anymore about getting a new shirt. They needed as much cash as they could for the hotel room, for breakfast the next morning, for laundry, and for whatever other emergency popped up along the way. Charging their funds to Riley's credit card was out of the question. They would be found out quicker that way, just as Ben had been at the Archives gift shop.

Abigail was very glad that she had been limited with her shopping when she found that a single room in a barely decent hotel in New York City cost her eighty bucks. She paid for one room with two queen sized beds, blushing when the desk clerk commented that she and Riley were "a lovely young couple." Riley was oblivious to the comment. He was following Abigail around blindly, looking like he wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep.

As soon as they were in their room Riley slumped down on the end of one of the beds with his feet still dangling off the edge. Abigail left their things on one of the dressers and stood over his prone form.

"Don't think you can sleep yet," she said, gently kicking at his shin to arouse him.

He sat up with a groan. "Why not?"

"Because. There're washing machines two floors down that we could use to clean our clothes."

"I should have just gotten a new outfit," he muttered, still bitter about Abigail and Ben being able to get new clothes.

"Well if we clean the one you're wearing, it'll be like getting a new outfit," she snapped, her frustration evident in her accented voice.

"You sure you need me to do that," he said. He glanced up at her through heavily lidded eyes and wrinkled his nose. "Cleaning clothes is kind of a…_girl_ thing to do."

She had to try very hard to keep from losing it. What she did do was ignore him and rummage through their bags to find what she would be wearing for the night.

"I'm going to take a shower first—"

"How come you get to go first?"

"Because I said so. I'm going to shower first and then we'll both go wash our clothes. Got it?"

"I guess so," Riley muttered tiredly. "You take long, girly showers, right?"

She rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "I will if you don't shut it," she snapped. She didn't even look at him for fear that he would say something else stupid.

"Okay," he muttered.

She clenched her fists and pursed her lips to keep herself from saying anything else that might encourage him to comment. Honestly, she had no idea how Ben ever put up with him. Ben was a smart, charming man. Riley on the other hand was a whiny, annoying brat. She almost wished he had been left in Ian's trunk.

Abigail was in the bathroom with the door firmly shut and her things left in a heap next to the shower while she pondered over the current state of things. Sure she was frustrated with Riley, but she was more worried about Ben than anything else. She was just using her annoyance with Riley to mask how she was really feeling. Should she have trusted Ian? Riley seemed to think they shouldn't. But she ignored him and called Ben's ex partner anyway.

Now a nagging thought in the back of her head told her she shouldn't have brought Ian into the whole thing, though the rest of her brain told her there was nothing else she could have possibly done. All she could do was hope that Ian did what he was supposed to and save Ben from the FBI. And even if all that was successfully accomplished, she didn't know if Ben would still care about her, especially since she'd promised that Ian could have the treasure when they found it.

There were so many thoughts going through her head that she realized she had been standing there, staring at herself in a cracked mirror for a good five minutes. She shook her head, reminding herself that she didn't have any time to waste. She had just taken off her jacket and sweater when she realized her wandering mind had forgotten something else—there were no towels in the small bathroom. They were all left neatly on the counter between two sinks in the small vanity area.

"Damn it," she mumbled as she realized the predicament she was in. At least she wouldn't have to go far from the bathroom door. Riley might not even notice. She didn't want him to notice because she was sure if he did he would have something dim-witted to say to her. So, after taking a deep, calming breath, she opened the door and peered into the rest of the hotel room.

The first thing she noticed was sound coming from the television. Based on the "Doh's" and the shrill little laughs that followed, she concluded that Riley was watching the Simpsons and that Homer had just done something particularly moronic. Then she had a "doh" moment of her own when she realized she couldn't reach the towels from where she was. She would have to step out of the bathroom to reach them.

She did and quickly grasped a towel in her fist. She was just turning back to the bathroom when she heard a pitiful whimper. A whimper that had definitely not come from the television. She peered back into the room and frowned.

Riley was sitting on the bed closest to the window, his back to her and the TV. He wasn't even watching the Simpsons. It was just background noise. He had taken off his hoodie and was now pulling at the torn right sleeve of his T shirt. No wonder he'd wanted a new outfit, Abigail thought. His shirt was ripped from the shoulder down and there were a number of other holes in the back of the shirt. That and the material was stained with…blood?

"Riley," Abigail gasped when she saw the blood.

He turned his head a little to acknowledge her. "I thought you were taking a shower," he said while he tried to hide the grimace of pain that had appeared on his face.

"Riley, why didn't you say anything?"

"What," he muttered. "Nothing to say. I really am cool with you going first. I don't even care how long you take to shower, really."

"Not that," she said, now more shocked than annoyed with him. "Why didn't you say you were hurt?"

"Hurt? Me? Naw, I'm good. Really." He shrugged but ended up hissing in pain, proving that he was in fact far from good.

Abigail sat down next to him on the bed reached for his injured arm, her frown deepening when he flinched away from her.

"Ugh," he groaned. "Sorry."

She retracted her hand, perplexed by the young man's reaction. "Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"I have no idea." He looked genuinely confused. "You should probably go finish your shower…"

"Let's take care of you first, Riley," she said. "Take off your shirt."

He actually grinned as he gazed at her now tank topped torso. "Oh, well if you wanted to go in _that_ direction…you should have said so sooner. It's probably cheaper to get a room with one bed anyway…"

She rolled her eyes. It was like talking to a prepubescent boy instead of a grown man. "Just take off your shirt. I'm going to see if there's some kind of first aid kit around."

"Really, I'm good," he mumbled from behind the material of his half removed T-shirt.

Abigail ignored him and found what she was looking for in the closet space next to the bathroom. It was a small kit that looked like it had been sitting around collecting dust for years, but at least she'd found it. She turned back just in time to see Riley wince and drop his tattered shirt on the floor.

"God, Riley…"

He was pale and very skinny, both traits of a typical computer nerd, but that wasn't what surprised her. His right side was the worst of it. A deep, jagged scrape had formed on his upper arm going from his shoulder down to his elbow. This was probably where all the blood on his clothes had come from. There were more scrapes on his back and side, all of which looked very pink and puffy—early signs of an infection. She could even see pieces of gravel still stuck in the gash on his shoulder blade.

As bad as the cuts looked, the darkening bruise on his torso looked even worse. It began at his rib cage and covered his skin all the way down to where it disappeared at his pants line. Abigail could only imagine how painful a bruise that must have been, especially if the wound continued down his leg.

"I did fall out of a moving vehicle, you know," he muttered while she looked him over.

"But you…you should have said something!"

He shrugged then winced miserably again. "We had other things to worry about. Besides…it's not too bad. Is it?"

"It could have been, if you let it get infected any longer," Abigail said. "Go take a shower first and I'll clean you up."

"You sure? I don't want to take up any of your girly bathroom time…"

"Riley…"

"Okay, okay. I'm going." He forced himself up off the bed with a wince, kicking off his sneakers as he stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Abigail sighed and gathered up his fresh shirt and boxers along with a towel. A minute passed before he opened the door and took the bundle from her, giving her a frustrated look as he did so.

Figuring he'd be safe in the shower, Abigail left the room for a moment, searching for the ice machine. She found it and filled a bucket, shaking her head as she thought about the predicament she and Riley were in. And now Riley was injured. Or he had been, but just refused to tell anyone. She wondered if Ben ever had to deal with something like this…

In less than five minutes she was back in the hotel room, glad that she had seen only a handful of people on the way. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her, which she was extremely relieved for. Once she was back in the room, she had to wait another ten minutes for Riley to get out of the shower. When he did, she was thankful to see that he remembered to keep the shirt off.

He sank down on the bed next to her with a sigh. He looked a little flush, even with his skin as pale as it was. If she thought he was skinny before, he seemed almost sickly in nothing but boxers and socks. And she had been right about the wound on his leg—the bruise traveled from his side all the way down to his knee. He caught her staring at him and sighed again.

"Just get it over with so I can put my shirt on."

"My thoughts exactly," Abigail mumbled as she fished through the old medical kit for something to clean the wounds out with.

"God," Riley hissed, pulling away as she pressed a cloth to the scrape on his arm. "It felt better before you started to help."

"This needs to be cleaned, so just relax and deal with it."

He stared at her with wide, glossy eyes, looking genuinely hurt that she had snapped at him. She tried her best to ignore his sad pout and went back to the task at hand. Surprisingly Riley didn't complain anymore after that and watched another episode of the Simpsons while she worked.

Riley chuckled at something on the TV, then winced as Abigail pulled a particularly large piece of gravel out of one of his many cuts. "Ahhh…geez," he whined. "You're ruining the Simpsons for me."

"I'm sure you've seen it before," she muttered, never taking her attention away from the task at hand.

"Yeah, but it's a good one," Riley slurred. "George Bush moved in across the street and now him and Homer are pulling pranks on each other."

"Uh huh." She tore open a pack of gauze and held it over the large scrape on his shoulder and upper arm.

"You ever seen it?"

"No." She taped the gauze down and put band aids on some of the smaller wounds on his back.

"It's really funny."

"I believe you."

He coughed with a wince as Abigail probed at his bruised side. "Are you almost done yet? I'm _really_ tired…"

"Almost." She wrapped some ice in a towel and pressed it against the bruised flesh.

"Owie," he whined.

"Just hold that there." She popped open a bottle of Advil and tipped out a pair of pills. "Here," she said handing them and a bottle of water to Riley. "Take these."

"Thanks, Nurse Chase," he mumbled before swallowing the pills.

"It's _Doctor_ Chase."

"Wrong kind of doctor," he retorted, wincing again as he adjusted the makeshift ice pack against his side.

She got up from the bed and stared down at him.

It took a few seconds for him to realize she was watching him, and he had to do a double take before saying, "what?"

She scrutinized his pale, thin and bruised form, looking at him from his socked feet to the dark brown hair that stuck up in all directions on the top of his head. "How old are you, Riley?"

He actually smirked and tilted his head in amusement. "Why? How old do you _think_ I am?"

"Honestly? About twelve."

He winced. "It's because I lost my big boy facial hair isn't it? Stupid duct tape…"

"Riley…"

"Okay, okay. I am twenty three years and nine months old. I would tell you how many days, but my brain's a little fuzzy right now. I don't remember if it's a leap year or not."

"It's not."

"Well, there you go." He said as he pulled a fresh white T-shirt over his head.

He apparently was done with their little conversation, but she was not. The young man before her had sparked her interest. Ben had told her about his family and the treasure hunt, but almost nothing about Riley. She pulled a chair up in front of him and sat down. "So…Riley. How did you get caught up in Ben's little…quest?"

He pulled his head through the shirt with a groan. "What? Why do you care?"

"Just humor me."

He looked honestly surprised that she was even talking to him. "Okay…um…oh yeah. Ben came to MIT while I was there. Then he saved me from a dead end after school cubicle job."

"MIT, huh?"

"Yup," he said, smirking proudly. "Graduated Suma Cum Lade, and probably like third highest in my class."

"Only third?"

"You should have seen some of those nerds. Completely crazy."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, okay…you got to ask your questions, now it's my turn. How old are _you_?"

She leaned back in her seat. "Fair enough. I am thirty one. And nine months."

"Oh," he chuckled. "A fellow July baby. But you're closer to Ben's age."

"You sound disappointed."

He smirked. "Well I did think you were cute first. A cute _man_, but still…"

She rolled her eyes. "Anything else you'd like to ask?"

His face suddenly turned very serious as he ran the hand that wasn't holding the make shift icepack through his hair and stared at the floor. "Do you think Ben's okay?"

A warm smile grew on her face when she realized how worried he was about his friend. "I'm sure he's fine. The FBI take good care of their prisoners."

"Sure they do," he mumbled, not encouraged by her statement at all.

She stood up from her chair with a sigh. "You get some rest. I'll worry about the laundry."

"You mean it?"

"Yes. Just go to sleep."

"Can do," he said as he crawled under the covers.

"Good night, Riley," she said sweetly as she flicked off the television set.

"Meh," he mumbled back from beneath the bed sheets. Within minutes, he was sleeping soundly.

END.

Seen the movie? Then you pretty much know what happens and I have no need to reiterate the whole ending.

Riley and Abigail are friends now, and they hide out while Ian saves Ben from FBI custody. But Ian, being a spiteful man, was still bitter over Riley's escape the day before. So, to reclaim his bargaining chip over Ben, he goes after the treasure hunter's dad.

After an exciting cave exploration, during which Shaw dies and our heroes come dramatically close to their own demises, Ben, Patrick, Riley, and Abigail find the treasure and Ian and his cronies are arrested in Boston.

In the end, Ben gets the girl, they all make a new friend in FBI agent Peter Sadusky, and Riley gets a cool car. A happy ending for all, save, of course, for Ian who sits alone in his dark prison cells, plotting his revenge…

* * *

_I'm sure everyone noticed by now but "Closed Break" has finally been updated. If you haven't read it go do that now, because that story's great and about a kabillion times better than any of the crap I write. And I am very happy to say that :)_

_So it's Spring Break and I'm home, just working and doing homework and stuff. Since I've got a little bit of extra time, maybe I'll start posting v3 this week…hmmm…we'll see._


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